


angel, savior

by noctizanagi



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I'm going to cry, M/M, blood mention? eh, soft boys 2.0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 10:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctizanagi/pseuds/noctizanagi
Summary: when you think your life is ending, it is truly just beginning.[ft. soft boys 2.0]





	angel, savior

The blood seeping out of his chest bloomed like a flower, spiraling across his jacket, wet and warm and comforting, somehow. Messy brown hair like the halo of an angel, or perhaps the thorn crown of a demon, depending on the view. Pained brown eyes struggling to stay open searched the stars for answers,  _ why am I alive? _

 

A hand clutched the grass tightly, the pain setting in the longer he laid on that hill. At this point, death would be over-appreciated and darkness would be clung to with the determination of an enthusiastic salesman. The fallen didn’t except a mop of blurry blue and white to enter, a mop who picked him up and began running with him. Instead of grass, he clutched the white, staining it red. 

 

_ I’m sorry, angel, I’m sorry for my worthless existence staining your coat.  _ That’s what the dying boy wanted to whisper, to apologize, to leave without any regrets. He made a choked noise instead, succumbing to the spots and trusting the angel to chose his fate. 

 

_

 

The angel’s name was M, he was told. The bright lights of the small clinic hurt his eyes, but he managed to look to M.  _ I’m sorry.  _ He wanted the words to escape, but his worthless vocal cords wouldn’t collaborate with him. They were useless now, just like he was. Like he had always been. The boy noted that the pain had gone away, for the most part. Was that on the behalf of M? Had he saved him in time?

 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to speak. You’re- you’re okay now,” M murmured, voice melodiously shy and smooth. The haze seemed to be making everything more pretty, the haze that he was in from the pain, yes, that was the best explanation. The brunette made another, rather unintelligent noise, biting his lip right after. 

“M-my name is- is Ake,” He rasped, dissatisfied even after the use of his voice. It was foreign to him, rough, not even close to the quality of M’s. But Ake found relief in the fact that now he could say sorry as much as he needed, wanted, but he was shushed quickly by a pale finger. 

 

“Ake.. Ake, shh. You aren’t really healed yet. So you have to be quiet.” M shook his head slightly, brown eyes tracking the movement of blue hair ever diligently. It was pretty, mesmerizing, the kind of hair Ake would see in his line of work and think, damn, I wish that was me. But the injured boy was stuck with soft, curly-around-the-edges brown hair that brushed his shoulders gently. 

 

“You’re pretty,” Ake commented offhandly, reaching a hand up to pat M’s head. Yet M pushed it back down gently, sighing. His brown eyes met the other brown eyes, a haze in one pair and a kindness in the other. Ake vaguely remembered being shot- oh, so that’s why he shouldn’t move. If he probed enough, he could feel the raging pain in his skin.  _ Let’s not. _

 

The black spots began dancing again, the haze darkening into a fog. Ake couldn’t see M, a frozen panick taking over his normally calm body as he struggled internally. He couldn’t leave, what if his angel left him?  **It’ll be better in the morning.** A voice left him stunned, vulnerable, and sleep tackled him into submission.

 

_

 

The haze was gone the next time Ake woke up, rubbing his eyes instinctively before he sat up. A throb ran through his body, nothing like the deathbed pain he felt however long ago but strong enough to alert him to something amiss. Looking down, eyes saw that the bandages wrapped around him had gotten thinner, as long as his perception was normal again. 

 

Brown eyes searched the room around him, surroundings morphing his expression into a confused yet calm mask. M would be here soon, hopefully, and he could explain.  _ Akechi, Akechi, the lying man, the dying man.  _ A voice mocked, seemingly detached from life. It took the (former) detective a few moments to figure out that the slightly insane, hinged on crazy voice belonged to his Persona, Loki. 

 

**Fuck off, Loki.** Robin Hood groaned, crossing his arms.  **Let him have some time to think.** The jumble of voices escalating into an argument thereafter didn’t help Ake in the slightest. He rubbed his head, ears pounding, heart racing, mask slipping- 

 

“Ake- Ake!” M’s panicked voice cut through his breakdown, cut through the white noise, the static, jolting him into reality. “Ake, calm down. You’re okay.” The brunette looked down, brown hair encasing his face. When did he start grasping the sheets? When did he start screaming? At least the Personas he harboured had shut up.

 

Ake looked up, brushing his hair aside with an ungloved hand- when did he shed those? His eyes found familiarity in M’s face, his eyes, his hair, his personality. “Mishima?” He recognized the other from some interviews with him, as well as seeing him around with Akira. So this was Yuuki? His angel, the admin of the Phansite. (Of course Akechi knew. He had been the one to hack it, after all.)

 

“Akechi-san, you recognized me. Y-you were a little out of it last night, probably from blood loss. A-at least, that’s what Takemi said.” Mishima seemed shyer now that Akechi had found his identity. Akechi understood- after all, he had always found it easier to deal with people when he was detached, lonely. 

 

Akechi nodded, not trusting himself to speak at that moment. “You know, Mishima, I would like to get to know you better, after I sort out some things,” he murmured after a few moments, licking his lips in a nervous tic. 

 

Mishima nodded. 

  
“Yeah, that would be cool.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this really late at night so don't mind me  
> i hope it's okay for y'all  
> my soft boys are all going to kill me  
> slowly  
> with a 420° knife


End file.
